


Ambassador East

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never asked any questions, and he was always there, on time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambassador East

**Author's Note:**

> Written for stop drop porn.
> 
> Unbeta'ed. CRAZY. I have a totally unholy love for this pairing though, so YAY!

The first time was a few weeks before Victoria came, the second time right after he returned with Ray from their trip to Canada. Each time, Fraser would come back to his office from the 27th, and there would be a message on his desk.

_The Whitehall, 1235, 7pm_

_The Fairmont, 417, 11pm_

He never asked any questions, and he was always there, on time.

The third time, he came in from an incredibly trying day, the outside seam of his only pair of uniform pants ripped. Turnbull stood up when he saw Fraser coming in the door. "Constable Fraser, I have a telephone message for you."

Fraser wanted nothing more than to shut himself in his office and sit _down_ for a little while, but he knew better than to think that Turnbull would leave him alone until he was able to do his duty by giving Fraser the message. Turnbull was really harmless, but Fraser found his patience stretched working with him.

Fraser sighed. "Thank you, Turnbull." Turnbull snatched a piece of paper up from the desk and thrust it out at Fraser.

He took the paper from Turnbull's fingers. _Ambassador East, 7685, 9:30pm_. His face flushed at the thought (a mere three hours) and he walked toward his office, Turnbull calling after him. "He wouldn't say who he was, he just said to tell you Ambassador East, 7685, at 9:30. I tried to get his name, but, well, he was very rude, he hung up on me."

That made Fraser smile to himself. Mark would have absolutely no patience with Turnbull either. Fraser was surprised Mark hadn't yelled at Turnbull, frankly.

There was a spare set of casual clothes in the bottom drawer of Fraser's desk, and he leaned over to unlace his boots and then carefully remove and hang up the uniform to go to the cleaners. He'd fix the seam on the pants in the morning.

He pulled on the jeans and the blue flannel shirt, listening for the sounds outside of Turnbull getting ready to leave for the day.

"Constable Fraser, I'll be leaving now."

"Very good, Turnbull. See you tomorrow."

Once it was quiet, Fraser grabbed his leather jacket, pushed his boots on his feet, and placed his Stetson on his head, before heading out the door. To the Ambassador East.

*****

It was a cool night, September, but the twenty blocks to the hotel felt cool and brisk and _good_. The Ambassador East was a very expensive hotel, not some place that Fraser would ever stay, but Mark only stayed in the best places. Fraser took the glass elevator up seven floors to room 7685. He took his Stetson off and raised his hand to knock. His heart was beating fast and his palms were a little sweaty in anticipation. There was no mystery about why he was here.

Mark opened the door a few seconds later, and Fraser swallowed hard. Mark was in a black t-shirt and jeans, bare feet, and, well, he looked very, very good.

"Hey, Ben," Mark said, gesturing Fraser in the door.

"Hello, Mark," he replied, walking past Mark and into the room. Mark shut the door behind them, and Fraser took in the room, looking around. It was a suite, and it was quite lovely. There was a small sitting area decorated in cream and mauve, a kitchenette (which he was certain Mark had no intention of using during his stay), and Fraser could see the door to the bedroom off to the left.

Fraser shrugged off his jacket and Mark took it, brushing his fingers against Fraser's and making Fraser shiver, then tossing it over one of the chairs. He took Fraser's hat too and threw it onto the couch.

"So, that Turnbull guy is a trip, huh?" Mark was standing right next to Fraser, his hands coming out to rest on Fraser's waist. They wasted very little time with preliminaries, usually making only the most perfunctory of small talk.

"He's very...enthusiastic," Fraser replied, his breath coming a little faster as Mark tugged Fraser's shirt out of his jeans, running his hands up underneath and leaving a hot trail on Fraser's skin. He bit back a moan, and Mark grinned, moving his hands to Fraser's belt.

"Tried to give me the third degree," Mark said, pulling Fraser's belt open and off, dropping it to the floor. "So I hung up on him."

Fraser willed his hands to move, pushing up Mark's t-shirt. "Yes, Turnbull mentioned that. I can't say I blame you." Mark laughed and let go of Fraser's waistband, lifting his arms so that Fraser could pull his shirt up and off. Then Mark was standing there, barechested and, if Fraser was being honest and rather schoolgirlish, quite breathtaking. His chest was dusted with hair, his abdomen flat, and Fraser wanted to run his tongue down the valley there. God. The months between these times were very long, and he thought about Mark often.

Mark's hands were up and around Fraser's neck, and he was pulling them together. Mark's lips were soft, and his teeth were sharp against Fraser's lips. The kiss was unrelenting and Fraser wrapped his arms around Mark's back, pulling him closer, pushing his tongue into Mark's mouth, feeling Mark's soft moans and sighs into Fraser's mouth. He had missed this very much.

When they broke apart, Mark was panting. "Bedroom?"

Yes. _Yes_. "Please."

Mark grabbed Fraser's hand and tugged him toward the bedroom, which was done in the same soft colors as the sitting room. Fraser started working open the buttons of his shirt, dropping it to the floor as Mark swept the decorative pillows off the bed. He was yanking the blankets off and onto the floor as Fraser shucked the last of his clothes and kicked off his boots, standing there as Mark turned around.

"Jesus Christ, Ben. You're even hotter than I remembered. And I _did_ remember."

Fraser felt his face get hot as Mark's eyes slid appreciatively over his body. "Thank you," he said, his voice coming out husky and low.

"Come here." And here it was, why he kept coming back, kept doing this over and over. Mark's voice was soft, but he wasn't asking, and he knew that Fraser would follow his request. Fraser moved closer to Mark, until he was close enough to feel Mark's heat against his bare skin. He dropped to his knees, the plush carpet underneath, and looked up.

Mark's hands threaded through Fraser's hair, tugging a little. "Take my pants off."

Fraser tried to keep his hands from shaking as he raised them to unfasten the button and drag down the zipper, pushing at Mark's jeans (he wasn't wearing anything underneath, Fraser noted, feeling himself get harder at the sight). Mark lifted his feet and stepped out of the jeans, and Fraser tossed them to the side. Mark's cock was hard and mere inches from Fraser's mouth, and he licked his lips. The fingers in Fraser's hair tightened. "Don't fucking tease, Ben. Come on." One of Mark's hands came forward to guide his cock to Fraser's lips, and Fraser opened his mouth.

The rhythm was slow and steady, Fraser breathing through his nose and relaxing his throat, letting Mark thrust in and drag out against his tongue. He listened to Mark's low moans, his occasional word to tell Fraser how good it was. He was in love with the push and the pull, the slide of the hot, hard skin against his lips, and he closed his eyes and let Mark use him.

He didn't know quite how long they stayed like that, Mark's hands fisted in his hair, but his knees were starting to protest, just a little. Then, Mark was pulling Fraser off, panting harshly. "Get on the bed, okay? I want you like that." He reached a hand down, and Fraser grasped it, standing up and going to his hands and knees on the bed.

It was almost embarrassing, how much he wanted this, how he'd been hard since Turnbull handed him the slip of paper hours before. How he knew that it would end up like this, him on his knees, taking what Mark would give him. Wanting all of it.

Fraser stayed there, trembling almost, as he heard Mark walking around the room. Then he felt the bed dip, felt Mark's hands smoothing up the back of his things, to his ass. Gripping his cheeks and spreading him apart, just enough for him to feel completely exposed. "I wish you could see yourself," Mark said, his voice almost a whisper. "You look amazing." At that, Fraser pushed his ass back against Mark's touch. Trying to tell him without saying it that it was okay, that he wanted it, that he wanted Mark in control.

Mark's fingers were slick and cool, and rubbing up against Fraser's opening, teasing him. He tried to relax, to breathe, to relish every second of _not_ being in control of this. That was what kept him showing up at Mark's hotel rooms. Mark knew what he needed, what he wanted. When Mark had showed up, right after Victoria, he'd tied Fraser to the headboard in his hotel room and fucked him until he was sobbing, feeling like he was breaking apart and coming back together. Mark was always exactly what he needed, exactly when he needed it.

"Oh," Fraser breathed out as Mark pushed two fingers inside of him. He locked his elbows to keep himself up, and let himself open to Mark's probing touch. It was only a few seconds before Mark was massaging Fraser's prostate, and he wanted to collapse into a heap on the bed, but he knew Mark would want him like this.

"Yeah, Ben, god. So good." The fingers were gone, and Fraser heard the wrapper tearing and Mark hissing, and then the blunt, hard head of Mark's cock, pushing into him roughly, hurting just a little, just right, before sliding all the way inside in one, smooth motion. Mark stayed there, breathing hard, and Fraser pushed back, fucking himself. "Please," he whispered.

Mark took the cue perfectly, his hands gripping Fraser's hips, and he started to thrust, no hesitation at all. It was good, it was everything, and he knew Mark wouldn't last long, not after the blowjob, and he had probably been as - interested in the night's proceeding as Fraser had been earlier.

His thrusts were coming a little more irregularly, and Fraser felt one of Mark's hands wrap firm and tight around his cock, and that was it, he was coming, spilling out all over the very high thread-count sheets. He felt his whole body go limp, his head swimming with the orgasm. He wanted to help, wanted to get back on his knees, get his arms under him, but he couldn't. It seemed all right; Mark was still fucking him, harder and faster now. "Yeah, Ben, so good. So fucking tight. Yeah." And with a few more sharp thrusts, Mark groaned and Fraser felt him pulsing and coming inside him.

They both collapsed, Mark hot and heavy over Fraser's body. He couldn't breath very well, but Mark felt good, pressing Fraser down. After a few minutes, Mark reached down to pull out, which wasn't the most comfortable thing Fraser had ever experienced, and then he rolled over to his back next to Fraser, groaning.

"You're going to kill me one of these times, you know that, right?"

Fraser's mouth turned up slightly, he was completely out of the energy to smile fully. "You don't seem to mind much."

Mark laughed softly and tugged Fraser close, Fraser's head on Mark's chest, Mark's heart beating fast beneath the skin and bone. He let himself be lulled to sleep while Mark carded his fingers through Fraser's hair.

*****

When Fraser opened his eyes, the room was very dark. He managed to turn over enough in the Mark's clutch to see the clock. Four A.M. He had to meet Ray at the station to work on the Angelo case at seven, and he needed a few hours get back to his apartment to shower and get a new uniform. The brown one, it would have to be, since the pants weren't fixed on the other one.

Fraser extracted himself from Mark's arms, and watched as Mark huffed and turned his face into the pillow. He took in the long, lean lines of Mark's back, his muscles playing under his skin.

He found his clothes discarded next to the bed and put them back on, watching Mark sleeping as he pushed his feet into his boots. Then, he walked over to the bed and placed a small kiss to the soft skin underneath Mark's ear. He didn't stir at all, and Fraser stood up and went to leave the room. He knew there would be a fourth time, and he knew that he would be there, at whatever expensive hotel Mark stayed in during his next visit to Chicago.


End file.
